


Small Mercy

by x22



Series: Overwatch Chub Fiction [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink, Eating, Embarrassment, FA Brigitte, Feeding, Gen, Weight Gain, big belly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 04:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x22/pseuds/x22
Summary: The end of the embargo on unhealthy food is quite popular with most people at the Overwatch base, but Pharah is not one of them. Witnessing excess and hedonism run even more rampant than before with Mercy "indisposed", she makes a tough decision to try and restore order.





	Small Mercy

The roar of the Aurora's engines had yet to die down before the cargo door slid open. Ignoring the dying air blasts, even as her voluminous layers of clothes were whipped around by them, the passenger stepped out of the craft.

Standing at the other end of the hangar, Pharah wrung her hands behind her back and involuntarily snapped to attention. Unlike her usually simple attire she now wore her full Helix Security uniform – awkward though she looked in it.

"I'm glad to see you. But I hate seeing you _here_."

Pharah winced at the tone being thrown her way, but clenched her jaw and did her best to ignore it. "Apologies for calling you in so urgently. There is no one else I can trust with this. Mother..."

"Ahh, why so formal, _habibti._ " Ana tutted. She smirked, but with a sense of melancholy to it. With a brisk stride that belied her age she came over and pulled her daughter into a quick hug.

Fareeha returned the gesture, if only out of surprise, patting her mother on the back stiffly.

Releasing her grasp, Ana looked up at the blushing woman and patted her shoulders: "You've really grown into this uniform," she observed inscrutably, but with obviously mixed feelings. "I can see why you'd want to play dress-up."

"This isn't about that..." Fareeha grumbled, brushing her hair over ear – although it was already in place. "I know you were in the middle of a mission, but... this is important."

"Fine," Ana harrumphed and spread her arms in sardonic surrender. "Lead the way then."

Pharah did not exaggerate. She had agonized over this, but finally decided that she had no other choice. Ana might not be able to understand how she felt, but Pharah would do anything to save Overwatch. Even if that meant having to confront her mother.

With a groan, Fareeha forced the thoughts out of her mind and stopped them halfway down the hallway. "No one knows I called for you. So... just... don't make this any worse than it already is." With that, she opened the door in front of them and let her mother step inside.

 

* * *

 

 

"You shoulda seen her mug when I flew past her," Tracer boasted blithely. Wedged into her seat in the small mess hall, she waved a half-eaten jelly donut at Genji for emphasis. Despite her slumped pose, her belly still bulged over the table – the many empty dishes around her might explain why.

"I did. I was there," the cyborg ninja replied dryly.

Seated across from the smug Brit, Brigitte's cheeks reddened: "Weeell enough about that, why don't we get another round of dessert over here."

Lena's eyes brightened at the mere mention of dessert. Popping the donut into her mouth, she dismissed Brigitte's embarrassment with a wave of her hand: "Don't worry about it luv; ain't no one else who can beat me either."

"Huh? Oh yeah... _presis_!" Brigitte breathed a sigh of relief. Better they thought she had been a sore loser when in fact she had been very much distracted by Tracer zipping past with her improved chronal accelerator. Or, more accurately, the speedster's huge ass bouncing and jiggling in those snug leggings, right in front of her. And even more so how nowadays even their stretchy fabric could not quite contain all of it. Despite Mercy's draconian rules, Tracer had been thriving – and now, with the embargo on junk food lifted, she was truly a sight to behold as she waddled ponderously around the track. Brigitte did not mind her "cheating" with the accelerator if it meant that kind of view whenever she overtook her.

"I think everyone can agree that our big winner deserves a special treat!" Brigitte announced firmly, encouraged by the visions she had just conjured up for herself.

Leaning back in her seat, flabby gut rising up over the table, her fat double chin bunched up indolently, Tracer grinned sheepishly: "I don't think _Angela_ agrees," she giggled before looking towards the door. "...she hasn't been here lately, though."

With Lena distracted, Brigitte took the opportunity to surreptitiously shovel more donuts onto the bountiful Brit's plate. "Then there's nothing to worry about. Eat up now, she's probably just busy as usual!"

 

* * *

 

 

 

Heavy breathing met Ana as she entered the clinic. Once her eye adjusted to the dim light, the vast contours of the source of the noise materialized before her. Still sprawled on her back, the enormously bloated Mercy seemed like she filled half the room. Pharah had covered her belly with a blanket, obscuring its globular form a little but it did nothing to diminish her presence.

Ana stopped a scant meter into the medical office and simply gave her daughter a questioning look.

Keeping her voice down, Fareeha brushed her hair evasively: "When I was a kid you would give me medicine for my tummy aches... I was, uh, hoping you could help."

Steeling herself, the security officer stepped forward. Before removing the blanket, she said firmly: "Obviously, no one else needs to know about this."

Stirring when her impossibly swollen belly was revealed, Mercy groaned and squinted to focus her eyes. A gasp escaped her lips as Ana stepped around the horizon of her vast form to reveal herself. "Y-you're not supposed to be here..." the doctor muttered. Her fat arms fought against her ample bosom to reach the hem of her black shirt in a futile effort to cover herself. The fumbling jostled her packed belly enough for her attempt to quickly end in pitiful moans.

"It's not what it looks like," Mercy assured the old sniper, seeing the look of grandmotherly disappointment on her face. She was surprised to see the imminent scolding instead dissolve into an guilty cough as Ana put a hand on her own midsection.

"Well this is clearly a more exaggerated case..." Ana remarked. "Still, I think you're going to live." Despite the reassurance, she was not above following up with a patronizing pat on the doctor's drum-tight belly. It was enough to elicit a loud moan from her patient.

Turning to leave, Ana addressed her daughter: "She's just had a bit too much to eat. Perhaps the good doctor should follow her own recommendations?"

Behind them, Mercy's face went redder than the wine she had confiscated from Lúcio's room – and then greedily consumed.

Pharah kept her voice low: "I know that, but... without Dr. Ziegler the base is falling apart. Jesse McCree is smoking inside all the time. Someone is using Overwatch funds to buy snacks. Yesterday, Miss Oxton somehow got stuck on the soft serve machine while pouring ice cream straight into her mouth on a dare. And I don't know what to do about Miss Lind– uh, what I mean is... it's chaos!"

A kind smile on her lips, Ana reached up to stroke her exasperated daughter's cheek. "There, there. I suppose we can't endanger the whole base just to teach someone a lesson, hmm _habibti_?"

"There is no need to, _ugh_ , worry yourself," Mercy protested. "I can fix this, I just..." Her attempts to get up quickly falter into a loud groan and she fell limp on the couch she was perched on.

"Just relax, _ya danaaya_ and let me take care of you," Ana tutted. "You've been very greedy and we don't want you to burst now, do we?"

"Th-there's good explanation for this!" Angela moaned, only managing to summon a fraction of her haughtiness in the face of the old warrior.

"Of course, of course." Ana sounded supremely unconvinced as she rummaged through her bag. "Ah, here we are. Fareeha, can you help rub this on the poor doctor's tummy?"

Suddenly frozen, Pharah stammered as a tin of salve was thrust into her hands: "D-do _what_ now?"

"Come on girl, it's not exactly battlefield surgery."

As usual, her mother's admonishment quickly overruled her misgivings and Fareeha reluctantly slathered Mercy's swollen belly with the translucent ointment. Even her light dabs prompted soft moans from the immobilized blonde, making her even more ill at ease with her task.

"I said _rub_ , not 'gently caress'," Ana pointed out patiently. If her daughter's face wasn't pink already, this phrasing certainly deepened her blush.

Clenching her jaw, Pharah focused her mind on the great pale orb before her. It was as if it swelled to fill her vision, until her whole world was Mercy's gut and her own arms trying to reach around it. Her strong hands swept across its smooth, taut surface; her motions firm but soft. _Just doing my duty_ , she tried to tell herself, but her mind would not let her forget that she was _massaging_ one of her childhood heroes. Her respected superior. A beautiful, golden-haired angel.

Reaching towards Dr. Ziegler's chunky lovehandles, Pharah felt herself drape over this bloated angel's ballooning bulk. A bonfire flared up inside her at the closeness – a most curious sensation. And Angela's skin was just as silky smooth as she would have guessed it to be. Something she would of course never do. Why would she!

"Done!" Fareeha announced curtly, hastily withdrawing. Turning away, she busied herself adjusting her uniform – it seemed to have slipped up while she was... distracted.

Ana nodded and held up a handful of pills to Mercy's mouth. The stuffed blonde could barely bring herself to swallow even these tiny pellets, and only after several gentle reassurances from her caretaker. "Now... which would you prefer for washing down your medicine?" Ana held up two bottles: "Whiskey... or chocolate milk? It was all I could find in your fridge."

Where she had been bright red ever since she noticed Ana, Mercy now went quite green. It seemed that after her outrageous, multi-day binge the doctor did not relish the thought of either.

"Don't worry. _If_ Fareeha did her job properly, one glass _shouldn't_ make you explode." Calmly, Ana poured her one with chocolate milk. "Besides, you seem to enjoy it quite a bit, yes?"

Brooking no protest, Ana emptied the glass into Mercy's mouth through a steady stream of moans. Worried, Pharah reached out to touch the blonde's gurgling belly. She could swear it felt just a little bit softer, somehow giving her a sense of relief.

"There we go." Ana patted Mercy's shoulder before gathering up her things. "I better get going, then. Someone has to keep Reinhardt out of trouble."

Glancing between her mother and the bloated blonde, Pharah held up a half-hearted hand of protest.

"I'm doing just fine taking care of him. You don't have to feel bad about stealing Torbjörn's daughter, _habibti_."

"Th-that's not what I... wait, I didn't... I haven't..." Already way out of her comfort zone, there was now more fluster than Fareeha's brain could handle.

"It sounds like you two are getting along well," Ana nodded, patently ignoring her daughter's distress and turning back to Mercy: "Now, take three of these pills a day and you'll get better in no time. And if you don't, well... Fareeha can give you another tummy rub."

"What??" exclaimed the two other women in unison.

Deaf to their cries, Ana stopped to give her daughter a hug on her way out: "It was good seeing you again." And with that she made her way towards the waiting Aurora, leaving Mercy and Pharah alone with only stifling awkwardness for company.

 


End file.
